Sunday, July 26, 2009

Sunday evening randomosity

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I have a four page course paper due.... oh.... last week would be nice. For some reason the writing spirit has fled my immediate local area. What words I got down.... pure schlock and unworthy of the save button. I'll try again tomorrow....

Tell me.... when we go in the grocery store, and find that some gaggle of knuckle dragging mouth breathers charts the same course through the aisles, why is it that no action on our part will throw them off? I mean.... we can idly stand by examining the relative merits of stuffed olives vs. Kalamatas for twenty minutes, and when we take three steps away.... there they are, sucking all the joy from the world. I have gone so far as to immediately walk to the far side of the store and reverse my planned path, only to find them joining up along my flank like the sort of strange parasitic creature that attaches itself to large sharks.

In the grocery store... when the stock clerks set up an aisle display that completely blocks the shelves behind it, why didn't they just empty that shelf space and put the goods there? I mean.... the product now hidden on the blocked shelves is just there to gather dust, as no mortal will see it until the aisle display is knocked over by the prior mentioned knuckle draggers... why not just pitch the stuff on the shelf, rather than tantalize shoppers with the lost dream of actually being able to purchase it?

Why is it..... that finding a simple small reminder of the past.... something like a store loyalty card from some middle land grocery mart..... causes emotions to sink home like nothing else? A small thing, of no merit anymore, but sufficient to bring back the force of someones touch like a hammer blow of memory. Letting it slip from my fingers into a trash can does nothing to soften the impact. I know there are others who can be surrounded by mementos of a past love, completely without effect on themselves. Perhaps this points to the depth of the love they held.... I don't know. As for me.... twenty grams of plastic trash can deal me a blow like an overhand sword strike.

A thunderstorm is closing in just now.... and once again, I have to wonder if such storms are sentient. So often they occur at just the right moment, like a period on the end of a long and unspoken sentence in the mind.

Tomorrow.... if luck holds.... some range time. I think I will work on pistol malfunction drills, and try capturing them on video. The concentration will be welcome, and I need the practice. The range should be deserted on a Monday, and thus background laughter will kept to a minimum.

"It would seem that you have no useful skill or talent whatsoever," he said. "Have you thought of going into teaching?"

-- (Terry Pratchett, Mort)

That's MY job around here

Tourist, Rincewind decided, meant "idiot".

-- (Terry Pratchett, The Colour of Magic)

On nights such as these the gods, as has already been pointed out, play games other than chess with the fates of mortals and the thrones of kings. It is important to remember that they always cheat, right up to the end...

-- (Terry Pratchett, Wyrd Sisters)

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